At his words, Nicoleâs defiance seemed to crumble.
Pain still racked her body.
She knew better than to rile up this madman.
Jarrodâs phone pierced the tension with its ring.
Without hesitation, he answered, âHoney.
â
Amidst her haze of discomfort, Nicole discerned the callerâs identity.
It was Jamie.
Then, Jarrodâs voice took on an unusual softness as he said, âIâ1L be there in no time.
Just stay put.
â
Once the call ended, Jarrod addressed Nicole, who was still hooked to her IV, âAlec will take you back.
â
Nicole turned away, too entangled in her emotions to reply.
Jarrodâs eyes remained cool, unaffected by her silence.
âDonât pretend to be jealous.
Your acting disgusts me, he sneered, then strode out without a second glance.
Alone, Nicole exhaled in relief.
She reveled in the thought that Jamieâs needs might keep Jarrod away tonight, granting her a rare peace.
She drifted into a light doze only to be startled awake by a cold sensation on her legs.
âWhoâs there?â
Her ankle was suddenly seized, and she locked eyes with Roscoeâs attractive face, his actions clear.
A wave of shyness washed over her flushed features.
In his usual deep tone, Roscoe murmured, âLet me tend to your wounds, Nicole.
â
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Roscoe grasped Nicoleâs ankle gently, yet his touch was steady and did not interfere with his task.
Clad in disposable plastic gloves, Roscoe applied an ointment that brought a cooling relief and numbed the pain.
The sensation was so comforting that Nicole found her toes involuntarily curling, her pulse thudding audibly in her ears.
Roscoeâs expression remained detached throughout the procedure.
Once he finished with the ointment, he discarded his gloves in the trash bin, along with the porridge Jarrod had brought, without a second glance.
He exited briefly, returning with a thermos in hand, and proceeded to elevate the bed.